


Helping Hand

by Brb-Rope (yetiamwell)



Category: Static Shock
Genre: Best Friends, Electricity, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sleepovers, Sleepy Sex, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-13
Updated: 2009-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yetiamwell/pseuds/Brb-Rope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie can't sleep. Virgil has a helpful suggestion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I writing Static Shock? I know not.

Virgil woke up to the feeling that something was… not quite right. Not exactly –wrong-, but not right either. Not ‘impending villain attack’ wrong, so he let himself drift slightly, trying to place it without opening his eyes, which meant he had to completely wake up.

Nighttime, so they still had time to sleep before they had to get up. He didn’t hear or sense anyone else in the room, other than Richie sleeping next to him.

Richie shifted, letting out a deep sigh. Then again, perhaps not quite so asleep. Virgil cracked open one eye partway. No sunlight. No villains attacking. No shouting Sharon. This meant that they should both be sleeping, something that was a rare and precious commodity in the life of a Superhero.

His partner’s eyes were open, blue eyes staring up at the ceiling as if attempting to figure out the secrets of the universe. Which, considering Richie’s considerable IQ, wasn’t completely out of the question. “Sleep, bro.” He murmured, nudging the blond with a lethargic elbow. No danger, therefore no reason to actually wake up.

Richie didn’t flinch. “Been trying.” He said, his voice weary. “Can’t.”

”Brain won’t shut off?” Virgil murmured sympathetically. He had that occasionally, ‘what-if’ scenarios running through his head. Usually after a bad fight or a close call. More often if the close call involved Richie. Glamorous the life of a hero might seem from the outside, but the reality of it was a lot more nerve racking than he’d expected, wise cracks aside.

And Virgil wasn’t exactly a slouch when it came to the brains or imagination department, even with how much Richie overshot him these days. He knew how easily sometimes his thoughts slipped towards the darker side of things that could have happened, but it had to be that much worse for his best friend.

”Count sheep?” He offered gamely.

”1,412 score.” Richie offered dully. He paused, then added helpfully “-A score is 20 sheep.”

”Ah.” Oookay. Counting sheep was –definitely- out. “Pi?”

”3299706957.” At Virgil’s blank look, Richie extrapolated. “To the 999940th place.”

”Not the millionth?”

Richie shrugged a shoulder, still staring at the ceiling. “Too cliché.”

”Oh.” Virgil nodded at that. Why do things the same way everyone else did? Their life wasn’t normal, why should they do things the boring way? “There’s always the age old cure.”

”I already tried counting sheep.”

Virgil snorted. “Not that.” He waved a hand around lethargically, feeling his brain start to slide back into sleep. “Y’know. Masterbate. Jerk off. Spank the Monkey. Whatever.”

Even in the dim light, it was impossible to miss the blush that spread across Richie’s face. “v-VIRGIL!” Somehow, the word came out sounding more like a chicken squawk than Virgil’s name.

”What?”

”I… You… Can’t…” Richie stammered, limbs curling close to his body like he could just crawl into the mattress in mortification things would be alright. “I can’t do that! You’re like right here next to me!”

”Why not?” Virgil yawned. Man, it was too late at night to be having this conversation. And masturbating always worked for him whenever he was having troubles getting to sleep. Not that he did it all that often, the thought of Pops and Sharon next door or down the hall tended to kill any sort of mood.

And they were teenage guys. That’s what they did, right? Or something. Hormones.

Richie just looked at him with wide eyes that weren’t hidden by glasses for once. It was the kind of look Richie usually gave when he was backed into a corner by dogs, upperclassmen or rampaging robots. “Nngh?”

”What?” It made sense, didn’t it? Something non-mental, make him feel good, and fall sleep quickly.

”What?!” Richie’s voice was a little squeak.

Virgil contemplated his friend, mind working fuzzily. From Richie’s reaction, there was possibly something wrong with his suggestion, but at the moment it was too much of a bother to worry about what it was. He’d figure it out later. In the meantime… “Do you need a hand?” He finally asked.

”Uh…”

He yawned again, rolling over on his left side, facing Richie. That was probably it, Richie was too tired to fall asleep or take care of things himself.

Richie stared at him with wide eyes as he reached under the blankets they were sharing, finding where Richie’s t-shirt had ridden up, baring the smooth skin of the blond’s abdomen, muscles solid and firm from running around as Gear. Virgil still couldn’t understand how Richie could sleep in a shirt, he got too hot if he tried, which was usually why he just slept in a pair of lightweight sleep pants.

He trailed his fingers down, tracing a few slim scars decorating the smooth skin, encountering the soft material of Ritchie’s threadbare flannel boxers. Richie gasped as Virgil followed the curve of his hip under the worn elastic of the waistband, finding Richie already half hard. No wonder Richie was having trouble sleeping.

”Y’okay Rich?” Virgil asked quietly as Richie gasped again, trembling slightly as he lightly ran his fingers over the blond’s growing dick. The angle was a little awkward and was kind of strange holding another guy’s erection, hard and soft at the same time, but not bad. It wasn’t like he was fondling some random guy anyway. This was Richie.

”Yeah.” Richie nodded.

Virgil nodded in return, pulling his hand out of Richie’s boxers. “Just a sec.” He half rolled the other way, reaching into the drawer in the nightstand and grabbing a plastic bottle of lotion. He pulled it out, setting it down next to his pillow and putting some on his hand, rubbing it over his fingers. It was a bit cold, but better than not having anything.

”It’s kinda cold.” He warned, rolling back to face Richie. He slipped his hand back into Richie’s boxers, wrapping his hand around Richie’s erection again. Richie gasped again, hips buckling away and then into Virgil’s grasp. “Rich?”

Richie grabbed Virgil’s shoulders. ”Again.” He said, his voice low and rough. Virgil chuckled quietly, running the pad of his thumb across the weeping head of Richie’s cock, how he liked it when he did it to himself. Richie rewarded him with another gasping sound, biting his lower lip as he pulled Virgil closer.

”See?” Virgil smiled, feeling sleepily content as he started a slow pumping rhythm, Richie thrusting his hips and meeting it almost effortlessly with years borne of practice of almost reading each other’s minds. He wondered if he could get Richie to gasp again like that, it was a nice sound mindless from the blond. “Just needed to relax.”

Richie gave a stuttering laugh, tilting his head back, exposing his long neck as he did so. Virgil had the vague urge to reach forward and bite on the exposed tendons, then sooth away the sting with his mouth. He shook it off as Richie reached past him, grabbing the bottle of lotion.

Virgil brain woke up a bit with a start as Richie’s cold lotion-covered hand brushed his navel. “Rich?” He asked warily as Richie tugged down Virgil’s sleep pants, wrapping his hand around Virgil’s own cock, which twitched eagerly at the attention. He was surprised to realize that he was almost completely hard, his attention having been focused elsewhere.

”M’not the kind of guy who doesn’t reciprocate.” Richie’s voice as low and almost sultry, eyes half lidded as he matched the pace of Virgil’s movements.

”Oh.” Virgil agreed, thrusting up into the tight vice of Richie’s grip. It was better than his own hand, Richie’s hand calloused from working on Backpack and various projects. A background thought was that he was never going to be able to watch Richie working without thinking about this ever again. Why had he never noticed Richie’s hands before?

The back of his hand met Richie’s on the upswing, matching each other stroke for stroke and the thought vanished, as illusive as a wisp of smoke, replaced by waves of pleasure.

”V…” Richie panted. “V… Virg… hold on…”

”Huh?” He was more aware of the lack of friction as Richie released him than he was the actual words. Richie grabbed Virgil’s hip, dragging them closer to each other. Virgil let go of Richie’s erection as the blond thrust against him, the slide of his hard length against Virgil’s being new and distracting.

Richie threw a leg over Virgil’s hip, Richie’s weeping erection sliding against his, the two of them plastered from chest to knee. Richie wrapped his hand around both of their cocks, pressing them against each other and that was even better than just Richie’s hand. His skin seemed to tingle, like a charge building up. “Rich…”

”Easy.” Richie coaxed, hips rocking back as Virgil pressed forward, trying to find release. “Easy.” He repeated, leaning his forehead against Virgil’s, slowing the pace. The charge crackled, then faded away, the pressure easing. Virgil panted slightly, trying to catch his breath.

“Gotta get you a grounding wire or something, bro.” Richie added with gentle humor, pulling away but not releasing him. “Keep ya from frying your partner.”

Virgil gave him a faint smile, a smart ass retort ready on his lips, beginning to feel like he was a bit over his head. Lending a hand to a friend was one thing, but this… Did making out with your male best friend make you –gay-? The retort died on his lips as Richie ground against him again, skin sliding against skin driving the thoughts from his brain. “God… Rich…” He breathed.

”Shh.” He could feel the muscles of Richie’s thigh tense and relax against his hip as Richie set the pace. He wrapped an arm around Richie’s shoulders, broader than they used to be, now that he was out crime fighting as Gear. His hand slipped on the thin cotton of the t-shirt, sliding down until it came to a rest just below the small of Richie’s back, pressing him closer when Richie thrust forward, relaxing when Richie rocked away. Give and take, the way they had always been.

”Rich…” It was too much, too much, but not enough either. Their breath seemed to sound harsh in his ears, a common sound, he heard it every day after a fight, the two of them leaning against a wall or each other, propping each other up as they caught their breaths. Touch, they touched each other all the time. It was usually grounding and familiar, but was new right now, with Richie’s shirt pulled up to his chest, their pants and boxers tangled around their thighs.

This was way past a helping hand for a friend, entering territory that even Virgil’s denial driven mind recognized as ‘dangerous waters’.

Then Richie grabbed him, rolling Virgil on top and the thoughts left Virgil’s head yet again as the pressure shifted, Richie was pinned to the bed under him, his breath rushing past Virgil’s ear, tickling his dreads. Virgil got his hands under him, shifting his weight and lifting himself up so he could look at his best friend.

Even in the dim light he could see that Richie’s eyes were dark. Dark dark, pupils dilated all the way as the blond looked at him like Virgil is some sort of unexpected treasure, something precious that Richie never thought he would see and something in Virgil’s chest broke a bit. He wasn’t supposed to see that. He wasn’t supposed to see Richie’s lips move in a silent plea, his name every other word as Richie held on to him like he was afraid Virgil was about to disappear on him. “Please… V… Please…”

He didn’t know what Richie was asking for, but it didn’t seem to matter as Richie arched under him, legs wrapped tight around Virgil’s hips, thrusting against him. Virgil groaned, unable to stop the thrust back, his head dropping back down, breathing harshly against Richie’s throat, breathing in the familiar scent that is Richie, mixed with metallic and electric residue.

He’d had dreams like this, dreams that have woken him up in the middle of the night, sweat covered and awkwardly sticky. Sometimes a supermodel or comic book heroine featured in them. Sometimes he had a hard time looking Daisy or Frieda in the eye the day after a dream, but usually it was just some sort of faceless featureless figure.

Richie’s far from faceless or featureless. He’s familiar and strange all at the same time. He doesn’t have the curves that Daisy or Frieda have, but he’s solid and warm and feels good in a way that Virgil just knows was going to haunt him more than the random accidental flash of smooth bare cleavage or lacy bra ever has.

Richie let out a whine, teeth clamped over his lower lip hard enough to draw blood and Virgil had to forcibly force down the urge to swallow any noise Richie made, cover Richie’s lips with his own. Kissing was… Kissing was more in a way he couldn’t put into coherency, not with the sudden rush of warmth against his belly and the way Richie shook, like he was breaking or trying to come apart at the seams under Virgil.

The slide of skin against skin was easier with the added liquid and it was Virgil’s turn to bite his lip from making some sort of noise that would alert the rest of the household to their activities. The crackle of an electrical charge was harsh in his ears and he reached up, pressing a hand against the wall, hoping it would act enough as a ground to keep from frying Richie because the world suddenly came crashing down on him, hot, fierce and white-

It took him what felt like a small eternity for his senses to return to him, a good mellow lethargy making him disinclined to move. He was lying on top of Richie, face pressed against the blond’s neck. A stray thought flittered through his brain that he could almost taste Richie, open his mouth a little bit more and just a stray lick… Or better yet, open his mouth and really taste Richie, leave a hickey and mark Richie’s pale skin so that everyone who looked at the blond would know he belonged to-

Virgil cut that thought off, rolling off of Richie and onto ‘his’ side of the narrow bed, away from the temptation that his best friend was beginning to represent. He glanced over at Richie and nearly had a heart attack as he realized that Richie hadn’t stirred at all, thoughts that he had electrocuted his best friend flickering through his mind in a panic.

And then Richie started snoring.

Virgil gave him a dirty look. They were both sticky, pants around their legs, covered in cum and Richie had just left Virgil to deal with the aftermath. Great. He wiped a hand across the mess on his stomach and made a face before standing up to find a towel or something to clean up with.

Well, at least Richie was finally asleep.

He had a bad feeling that sleep would be a long time coming for him.

-fin-


End file.
